


What Else Is There?

by rufflefeather



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Pepper/Tony break-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufflefeather/pseuds/rufflefeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for the avengerkink: "After a painful break-up with Pepper (no Pepper bashing though, please!), Tony starts spiraling back into some of his worst habits, including drunken hookups. After a villain takes advantage, Steve puts his foot down. No more random sex with strangers. Instead, Steve will be taking care of Tony's sexual needs.<br/>At first it is all about sacrificing for the team and doing whatever he can to keep Tony safe, but later, Steve really starts getting into it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Else Is There?

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't quite follow the prompt, but I hope it hits the spot none the less. Thank you hardticket for the beta. 
> 
> Title from [What Else Is There by Röyksopp.](http://youtu.be/ADBKdSCbmiM)
> 
> No profit is being made from this, none of it belongs to me.

It’s liquid diets and no sleep. Not the first time according to Clint and of course Steve knows Tony’s history. He’s just never witnessed it.

“I don’t blame Pepper,” Natasha says, arms crossed, feet wide, a glare in her eye that wouldn’t invite disagreement even if there was any. Steve remembers Tony’s fall, his breathless body. Had found it unbearable, so what must it have been like for Pepper, watching him drop and drop on TV, helpless.

“Neither do I,” he says. They stand in silence for a few seconds, taking in the shattered coffee table, glass everywhere. There are amber spots on the white carpet, expensive looking bottles of whiskey discarded here and there, some still dripping. “I’ll go talk to him.” If his voice sounds a little broken, no one says anything.

“He won’t let you in,” Clint warns him and Steve straightens, clenches a fist.

“I have my shield," Steve says, but knows that's not what Clint means.

//

It’s stale air and no sound. The door to the lab opens without resistance and Steve walks in. He finds Tony unconscious or asleep, he can’t tell, on one of his work benches, a complex looking tool digging what must be painfully into his hip. Steve tries to wake him, gets nothing more than a bleary _fuck off._

“I will not,” Steve says and when Tony doesn’t move at his request, Steve lifts him bodily off the table and carries him to his rooms. _If he vomits on me_ , Steve thinks, it’ll be a cold bath I dump him into.

Tony doesn’t, so Steve leans him against the sink and turns on the shower so it can heat. Then he strips Tony bare, kneeling to take his shoes off.

“While you’re down there,” Tony slurs, a leer on his face. Steve doesn’t need to look up to know.

“Don’t tempt me,” Steve says. It’s not like Tony will remember in the morning. Steve gets himself soaked as he kneads soap into Tony’s skin. He tries not to let his hands linger on invisible scars.

Steve tucks him in bed, murmurs goodnight. Tony says nothing but when Steve’s about to leave, Tony sways upright. Grabs Steve’s wrist and drags him back. Tony doesn’t cry but it’s a near thing. Steve lets him hold on until he falls asleep.

//

It’s too black coffee and circles beneath his eyes. Not as it should be, but better. It’s weeks and weeks of coaxing Tony back from a deep dark abyss. It’s all for nothing when the fuck of the week steals a blueprint of the suit. They get it back but it’s still a fight of the ugliest kind, Tony’s words fueled by guilt. Not that it makes them sting any less.

“You have an itch Tony,” Steve yells eventually, exasperated and tired. So tired of the endless worry, the endless dull ache and yearning that makes him feel like he never really got rid of all the ice. “You have an itch, and if you’re that desperate, I’ll scratch it for you.”

It’s the first time he sees Tony completely still while conscious. He’s not breathing. He’s not tinkering with one of his gadgets. He’s not using ninety percent of his brain capacity to invent something new while giving the people around him the bare minimum of his attention. His focus is completely on Steve and it feels like the sun on his skin for the first time in seventy years.

“I didn’t ––“ Steve begins, faltering, but Tony’s moving, is there, hands on Steve’s hips.

“Yes,” is all Tony says and Steve can do this, if this is what Tony needs. Steve can close the door on his own longing and when the sun decides to shine elsewhere, it will freeze like the rest of him. He sinks to his knees, no kissing, can’t taste Tony’s mouth without honesties that will break this fragile peace tumbling from his own, and mouths the bulge of Tony’s pants.

“Steve,” Tony murmurs, fingers digging into the muscle of Steve’s shoulders, but he doesn’t look up, goes to work on Tony’s pants until he has Tony’s dick in his hand. Without thinking twice, he takes it in his mouth, moans around the taste in the back of his throat and lets his lips and tongue dance to the lead of Tony’s noises.

“I needed that,” Tony says afterwards, knees still wobbly and hands still gripping Steve’s shoulders like he’ll float away if he doesn’t.

“Whatever,” Steve says, licking his lips and that makes Tony’s eyes go dark again. “Whatever you need, I’m here.” The dark lust changes to something else, and Steve is shoved. He falls back, looks up to see Tony zip himself up. He's completely composed again already, the only sign of anything happening at all: his red bitten lips.

“Of course,” Tony says, and there is that sound in his voice, that tone that makes Steve want to punish anyone who ever gave Tony hope and then took it away. “Just another rescue by Captain America. I’ll tell you something Cap, I don’t need rescuing.” He leans down, right into Steve’s face. His eyes are cruel and Steve knows, whatever comes next will hurt like a blow from Thor’s hammer. “Thanks for sucking me off, gorgeous. It wasn’t bad for a first time.” Tony sneers, taps him on the cheek twice and saunters off, leaving Steve to gather the pieces of himself. The ones that iced over and shattered when the sun went down.

//

It’s a wordless apology pressed into the base of his neck while Tony fucks him gently. Steve tries to hold on to the frost around his core but it melts with every stuttered sigh Tony releases against his skin.

//

“I didn’t think they did this in the forties,” Tony pants, breaths ragged around every word. Steve twists his wrist, two fingers knuckle-deep inside Tony, whose toes are curling in the sheets. Steve breathes slowly, rhythmically. He’ll come if he’s not careful, just from watching Tony spread on the bed like that. His mouth curled into a smile as if this is more than the end of a road getting nearer.

“The internet,” Steve says, teeth clenched as Tony tightens around his fingers when they brush sensitive nerve endings, “is for porn.” And when did this start? When did they begin to look each other in the eye, when did they begin to be relaxed enough to joke about what essentially is a fucked up therapy for both of them?

Tony huffs a laugh, but it ends with a groan. “I want this,” he says.

“You can have it,” Steve says, “anything. Anything you want.”

“No.” Tony reaches between his legs, stills Steve’s hand, looks him in the eye. “I want all of this. All of what you hold back. Come on,” he says, and he lies back again, spreading his legs wider, inviting. Steve removes his fingers, lines himself up, slips inside, into excruciating heat. If there was any ice left now –– but there isn’t. “That’s it,” Tony whispers, hands on Steve’s ass, pulling him closer, deeper, better. “That’s it, you’re perfect. Give me everything you have.”

For the first time, they kiss.

//

It’s late nights in the lab that end with Steve’s mouth on Tony’s dick. It’s missions in Europe, Japan, countries Steve hadn’t even heard of that end with mouths on mouths, sometimes just to make sure the other is still breathing. It’s Steve’s hand on the arc reactor while he’s buried balls deep in Tony, unmoving as he whispers, _I couldn’t bear it, couldn’t go on if this light ever goes out._

_You must, you have to._

_I couldn’t._

They both know danger and Tony will never give each other a wide berth.

It’s not perfect but it’s warmth. It’s more than either ever hoped for. It’s a kiss in the morning as the sun comes up, and really, what else is there?


End file.
